At Jehan Numa Palace in Bhopal, in the holy month of Ramzan, I am shown a mango tree said to be nearly 100 years old. A few years ago, it took a direct lightning strike and had to be cut back sharply; since then, it yields barely a dozen mangoes each season, a few claimed by the staff while the rest find their way into the kitchen. Dinner, as it turns out, is served under this very tree.

Taj-ul-Masajid in Bhopal, India’s largest mosque

Taj-ul-Masajid in Bhopal, India’s largest mosque
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

The setting is not incidental. General Obaidullah Khan — the second son of Nawab Sultan Jahan Begum, one of Bhopal’s most influential rulers and the last of its remarkable line of female sovereigns, known for administrative reforms and a relatively austere court culture — served as Commander-in-Chief of the Bhopal State Forces. Under him, time outdoors was woven into daily life. Hunting expeditions were common, and meals were often taken under trees, with family and guests gathering in the open after long hours outside. Sitting here now feels less like staging and more like a continuation of that habit.

Green chicken rizala

Green chicken rizala
| Photo Credit:
R.Mathew

The meal, The General’s Table, a 20-course feast that people can sign up for (prices vary according to the season), draws from the kitchens of Bhopal’s former royals. The courses move through kebabs, curries, rice dishes and desserts with a certain ease.

Dry curries dominate the table in Bhopal

Dry curries dominate the table in Bhopal
| Photo Credit:
R.Mathew

“Bhopal is a relatively late state if you compare it to places like Hyderabad or Lucknow,” says Faiz Rashid, managing director, Jehan Numa Group, and great-grandson of General Obaidullah. Founded in the early 18th Century by the Afghan ruler Dost Mohammad Khan, its food reflects that lineage, layered with influences from regions like present-day Uttar Pradesh, brought in through migration and marriage.

Compared to courts such as Awadh or Hyderabad, where elaborate royal kitchens encouraged competition and display, Bhopal’s court evolved along subtler lines. Particularly under the begums, power within the household was more centralised, and the food that emerged was less ostentatious.

General Obaidullah Khan

General Obaidullah Khan

Some of the dishes served here reappear, in simpler form, on Eid tables. A pulao often anchors the meal — sometimes an Afghani-style preparation — served with green chicken rizala (with coriander dominating the dish), mutton korma, kebabs and vegetables. There is no singular ‘Bhopali biryani’; recipes tend to remain familial, shaped over time. Preparations like filfora, a coarser minced meat dish somewhere between keema and pasanda, point back to an outdoor cooking tradition, while dishes like makhania korma and smoked aubergine sit alongside.

Shahjahan Begum 

Shahjahan Begum 
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Desserts follow the same logic. There is sheer khurma, chana dal halwa, and shahi tukda, all familiar across North India but noticeably lighter here, less sweet and more balanced. Even the rhythm of eating reflects this restraint: during Ramzan, the fast is broken with fruit-based sharbat, dates and simple savouries, the main meal following later without excess.

“While dining under a tree is not typically an Eid practice in itself, it sets the tone for a more informal gathering,” says Faiz.

Sense of community

In Kolkata, among the Dawoodi Bohra community, the emphasis shifts to structure. The morning begins at the masjid with Eid namaz and the khutba, after which people gather around the thaal, a large communal platter seating about eight. A kharak (dried date) marks the start, followed by greetings, before the meal settles into place.

Yakhni pulao

Yakhni pulao
| Photo Credit:
The Bohri Kitchen

Everything is served together, rather than in courses, arranged simply but with care. “A pinch of salt begins the meal, followed by sheer khurma, nihari with shirmal or poories, and akoori, softly spiced scrambled eggs. One fruit is always part of the spread, and portions are taken with care so nothing is wasted. Volunteers — khidmatguzars — move between groups, refilling dishes, while tea arrives with the familiar choice: phikki (savoury) or mithhi (sweet),” says a member of the community who did not wish to be quoted.

Bohri thaal

Bohri thaal
| Photo Credit:
The Bohri Kitchen

If Bhopal’s table is shaped by restraint, Kolkata’s is shaped by order, but both build a meal around sharing.

Home and away

Hussain Shahzad, executive chef of Hunger Inc. Hospitality in Mumbai (of Bombay Canteen and Papa’s fame), who grew up in Chennai and now lives in Mumbai, points out that much of Bohra food still exists outside restaurants. He recalls gakhar, a layered wheat bread his mother made while he was growing up in Chennai, somewhere between a thick paratha and a baati, cooked in stages to achieve a crisp exterior and soft centre.

In Mumbai, he speaks of dishes like lacy keema-bhejani pattis, where spiced minced meat encases a filling — traditionally goat brain — then is dipped in egg, coated in semolina and fried until the edges turn lacy and crisp. He encounters these in his extended family’s homes during Eid, having lived in Mumbai for over a decade now. These are foods that appear on occasion, often on a thaal, rather than on menus.

Shortrib and smoked bone marrow haleem from The Bombay Canteen’s archives

Shortrib and smoked bone marrow haleem from The Bombay Canteen’s archives
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Even within homes, the food shifts. “Most of the cooks at home in Chennai have been South Indian,” he says, “so that influence creeps in.” A biryani might carry curry leaves or a note of tamarind instead of lemon (which is used in Mumbai), small changes that become obvious when compared with versions cooked in Bohra homes in the South.

There are sweets that resist easy categorisation, but dum ka roat remains a constant — a dense, semolina-based baked preparation made with ghee, sugar or jaggery, and nuts. In Chennai, it is closely associated with Al Madina Halwa House in Royapettah, where it is baked in large trays, sold by weight — sometimes for as little as ₹60 — or packed into tins. “It retains something of its home-style character even in this more public form. I enjoy eating it whenever I’m home, especially during Eid,” says Hussain.

sheer khurma

sheer khurma
| Photo Credit:
MelanieMaya

Mumbai-based chef Amal Farooque traces her food lineage to the Memon Muslim community, whose roots lie across the Sindh–Kutch–Kathiawar belt. “My father’s family is from Kathiawad in Gujarat,” she says. “Our food is really a mix of where we’ve come from.”

That mix is most evident in the Eid biryani. “There has to be potato,” she says. Memon biryani is layered, usually with mutton, the rice and masala coming together only as it is served. “It is spiced but not harsh, the potatoes soft enough to break easily. Alongside it come dahi ka kachumbar, dahi bada, keema cutlets with crisp edges, and goli kebabs. Dishes like bhoona gosht and akhni — a broth-based pulao — round out the table, with bone-in meat preferred for flavour,” says Amal.

Lunch might include daal gosht, lentils cooked with meat, sometimes with bottle gourd added, while dishes like khao suey, with roots in Burmese cooking and brought to India through trading communities, remain part of the broader repertoire, if not specific to Eid.

A typical Eid spread leans heavily on meat, but lunch tables often include daal gosht (lentils cooked with meat), served with fragrant basmati rice, sometimes with bottle gourd (doodhi) added, which softens the dish and gives it a lighter, more comforting quality. Then there is khao suey (often called khaaosa in local usage), a noodle dish in a coconut-based curry, topped with condiments like fried garlic and onions. It has its origins in Burmese cooking and entered Indian foodways through trading communities, including Memons, moving between Burma and the western coast of India in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. “It’s not really an Eid dish,” Amal says, “but it’s very much part of our food.”

Across these tables, the differences are evident, but so is a shared instinct. The food is, quite evidently, shaped by memory as much as by method, and always, ultimately, meant to be eaten together.


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